


Manderley

by N N West (raynewton)



Category: professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/N%20N%20West
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his partner vanishes, people from \bodie's past come to help Doyle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manderley

Manderley by NN WEST

 

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderly again."

"Hmmm?" Ray Doyle looked up from the bike magazine he had been studying. "Bit of an odd book for you, old son."

Bodie turned from the window, smiling. "Oh, I'm not into romantic novels, though actually it's not half bad. This is..."

He crossed the room to perch on the coffee table and rest a hand on Doyle's arm, his blue eyes intent. "There are some things I want to tell you - things I should have said before this. The dream reminded me of that."

Doyle put the magazine down and swung his feet to the floor. "You don't need to tell me anything, you know," he said, reaching out to touch Bodie's face gently.

"I do, Ray. We've kidded about my past, but I do want you to know. It's important to me, now that we're... now that things are serious between us, not just a romp in the hay. Trouble is, it's not only my story to tell. I need some time, but we will talk."

"Whenever you're ready," Doyle said quietly, leaning forward to meet Bodie's smiling mouth.

 

*****

 

Three days later, Bodie vanished.

 

*****

 

It was to have been the most basic of assignments. Willis had reported an informer who could be of use to CI5, and Cowley had arranged for Bodie to make the initial contact, introduced by Willis' operative Ferguson. It should have taken an hour, two at the most, but when he did not return and there was no response to RT calls, a search began in earnest. 

The following day a report came in from Scotland Yard. Bodie's car had been found close to the river; it held Ferguson's body, and Bodie's smashed RT. There were indications that at least three other vehicles had been at the scene, but it was impossible to say exactly what had happened. The most likely explanation was that Bodie had been the target for abduction, and that Feguson had simply been in the way. 

 

Days passed. Doyle, sick with worry, used every contact and informant he or any of the squad knew of. There was only silence. No threats were received, no demands made. There were no leads, not even the faintest of rumours. Gradually it began to be accepted that Bodie could be dead, killed either in revenge for something he had done, or his killers' fear of something he might know. Doyle denied the possibility vehemently, arguing that if that had been the case they would have found his body along with Ferguson's. He fought the terrified part of his mind that produced an even worse possibility - that his lover had indeed been taken for revenge, and was being tortured. 

The worst part was realising that there was nothing he could do. With every possible lead proving a dead end he could only wait and worry, going over and over the same ground, checking and re-checking, looking for something, anything, he had missed.  
Grimly he forced himself to eat, to snatch a few hours restless sleep, knowing that if he did not he would be of no use if - when - there was news.

 

When it came, the contact was the last thing he could have expected. There was a phone call from Jeannie, the attendant at the launderette he used, telling him he had left something behind on his last visit.  
He knew he had not, but Jeannie sounded concerned. It was strange enough to convince him to go round at once.

"I was hoping when you'd be back for this, Mr Doyle," she said, pushing a book into his hand. "It's really annoying to mislay a book when you're in the middle of it, isn't it?"

About to ask what she was talking about, Doyle was cut off by Jeannie's continuing prattle.

"This is one of my favourites," she said, tapping the cover insistently. "Have you seen the film? Dated of course, but..."

The rest of her comment went uneard as, almost mesmerised by the tapping finger, he glanced down at the cover of the book.

Rebecca.

Startled, Doyle looked up to see an expression of relief in Jeannie's eyes.

"Oh, while you're here, Mr Doyle, could I ask you to have a look at the plug on my old kettle?" She nodded towards the back room of the lauderette. "It's on the blink again, and I'm gasping for a cuppa."

"Of course, Jeannie, and I've told you before - it's Ray."

Doyle stepped through the garishly coloured plastic strip curtain into the small back room. A tall dark haired man who reminded him of Shotgun Tommy raised a finger to his lips.

"Bodie's safe, but there's a big problem. I'll take you to him, but we don't have much time. Are you on?"

"How can I be sure...?"

"Three days before he vanished Bodie told you he dreamt about Manderly."

Grey eyes held his calmly, and Doyle nodded. "Okay, not the sort of thing Bodie would mention under threat. What do you want me to do?"

"Give me five minutes, then leave and head home. My partner and I will pick you up on the way. It's going to look as though you've been snatched.  
Make it look good - but try not to do too much damage."

The sheer incongruity of the conversation was its most convincing aspect. He nodded. "Okay."

With a grin the man slipped out the back door. Doyle lingered for the five minutes agreed, then left with a word of thanks to Jeannie.

He had walked only a few yards from the launderette when a car drew up beside him and the driver beckoned. As Doyle leaned down to speak to him the back door opened and the man from the launderette jumped out, catching him by the shoulders and throwing him into the footwell.

Part of Doyle's mind registered that the snatch had been efficiently and swiftly accomplished. It must have seemed very realistic to an onlooker, and he wondered if he would in fact have escaped if he had been seriously resisting.

"I'm Mike," launderette-man said cheerfully, as though this was an everyday occurance. "This is Eric. The rest, we'll let Bodie explain. Not being followed, are we?"

"No," Eric replied. "Doyle was being tailed, but on foot. Just sit back, mate."

Doyle was surprised at finding himself taking so much on trust, but there was no atmosphere of menace from the two men.

They drove in silence for over an hour, finally turning into a driveway and an open garage. The door slid down, and Mike led the way into a welcoming hallway, then into a comfortably furnished sitting room.

All Doyle could see was Bodie's pale but smiling face. His partner was struggling to rise from a low couch, but before he could move far Doyle was on his knees at Bodie's side, hands gripping tightly, his face buried in the other man's shoulder.

"At last," he whispered.

 

*****

 

"It was a set-up, of course," Bodie said some time later. " Harrington's mob. They were a bit cack-handed, though. Ferguson saved my life. I went into the river - they must've thought I drowned. Thing is, there has to be a mole in Willis' department, so I called Manderly; was going to get them to contact you, but..."

"When we found him Bodie was out cold," Eric said. "As soon as he was able to talk we arranged to get you here."

"Harrington's going to go crazy wondering what happened to you." Bodie ginned evilly. "We'll get in touch with Cowley, let him sort things out.  
He'll enjoy having something else to hold over Willis."

"Tomorrow," Mike said firmly. "Doyle looks as though he could do with some sleep."

"One thing I want to know right now." Doyle's scowl was belied by the gentle hand that touched Bodie's cheek. "Manderly?"

"Ah. Met them on my first ship. I was an idiot, didn't know what I was getting into. They did. Mike Lytton and Eric Lyle. They took me under their wing, kept me out of trouble. We went to Angola together - and no, I'm not talking about that yet. We came home eventually, they retired and I joined the army. They're my family, Ray."

"Thing is, Doyle, Mike and I are together, like you and Bodie," Eric said.

"It was a joke at first," Mike joined in. "Because we were always together Bodie used to call us Manderly - Mike and Eric, Lytton and Lyle. When we came home we changed our names by deed poll. Our joke became serious - and it cuts down the speculation about two men living together."

"There's a lot more to tell," Bodie grinned. 

Doyle studied the three men carefully, recognising the easy affection they shared. There had been someone there for Bodie in his worst days. That was all that mattered - the rest he would learn in time. 

 

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.


End file.
